Across
by temperednightsky
Summary: A hacking sound came from her corner, and Soul decided he should just shake her, maybe that would wake her up a little. A bump on the head would probably do nothing to stop Maka, of all people, right? / Contains character death and implied SoMa


Blair was a tough opponent, and they had underestimated her greatly. Greatly might have been an understatement – they were seriously not going anywhere. She was flinging them around like playthings, blasting magic her way and destroying everything that blocked her way, and they barely managed to dodge her hits. It was like their luck had left them – what did hunting down ninety-nine souls accomplish when they couldn't even stand up to this one witch?

The only thing that happened was that Maka was panting, had scratches and burns everywhere and probably close to using desperation tactics.

Blair was hunting them over the rooftops. Roof tiles were scattering everywhere, Maka's boots made some sickening sounds that reminded Soul too much of fingernails on a chalk board. And he didn't know what to do – this whole thing was too heated, and they needed a plan, as soon as possible. There wasn't much they could do.

Maka was thrown across the roof, the skin on her legs was peeling away with the friction. She used him as a brake by burying his blade into the roof and holding on to the pole – and they came to a stop, but not without having her hang over the edge.

"Soul, can you pull me up?" She asked, looking at him expectantly. There was just a trash container under her, but if he had the choice, he wouldn't want to fall into that, either.

He transformed back and tried to pull her up. It wasn't that easy – he had to hold on to the roof with the other hand, and if he changed his position, he wouldn't have enough leverage to pull her anymore.

"Only if you pull with your other arm. I can't do it this way." He watched as she used the other hand to get a grip on the rainwater gutter. The silence was suspicious – shouldn't Blair be right behind them? His thoughts were cut short when the gutter broke and Maka's weight pulled them both down and made them fall into the dumpster.

Even if it cushioned the fall a little, it did nothing for the morale.

"This wouldn't have happened if you weren't so heavy, you know?" Soul kicked a can after crawling out of the trash, "I could have pulled you up in that case."

"Are you seriously calling me fat right now?!" Maka turned around furiously, "Don't you have anything more important on your mind, like a plan on how to not die here?"

"We're not going to _die, _we will just make a fool of ourselves and be the laughing stock of the school for the rest of our lives. If that's the same ad dying to you, go ahead, you might as well." He buried his hands in his pockets in an attempt to not show how conflicted he felt just a second after finishing his sentence.

Maka huffed angrily. "You know what, you are-"

But before she was able to complete what she was going to say, the familiar light and crash of Blair's magic was all around, and in a bright, almost blinding way, the whole scene vanished in front of Soul's eyes for a few seconds.

After that, the smell of foul smell of torched garbage filled the air.

The dumpster had shielded him from the attack, he noticed with relief. But everything smelled like burned _something_. Almost like bacon, but more pungent, it was a heavy smell and it almost made him gag.

He heard a small wailing sound from somewhere next to him, and soon he also realized that Blair's shadow was stretching along the alley from the street. But something was weird about it, he could see Blair with her hands over her mouth, as if she had just realized that she forgot she left the gas turned on at home. It would have been comedic if it didn't feel so wrong.

"B-Blair didn't mean to do that! She thought you were still...still in the trash..!" she stammered, in a manner that didn't fit her previous confidence and cocky attitude. "You're kids..you're..."

Blair balled her hands into fists before disappearing into with an ominous pouf, leaving Soul behind to ponder what happened.  
But first, he wondered what the hell Maka was doing – her heard her whimper before, but it was dark around him and the sudden flash of light had done nothing to increase the way his eyes worked.

"..are you over there? Shouldn't we chase after her..?" he gazed into the darkness where he could see her lying on the ground next to the wall. Did she hit her head? "..Maka?"

A hacking sound came from her corner, and Soul decided he should just shake her a little, maybe that would wake her up a little. A bump on the head would probably do nothing to stop Maka, of all people, right?

"You should get up, I can't carry you home, you're too-"

He stopped when he touched her shoulder. Everything was crispy, the burned fabric crumbled away under his touch, exposing skin that bared a striking, tasteless resemblance to overcooked, scorched bacon that was breaking apart from the lack of moisture.

It was enough to make him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A cat was yowling in the distance.

Maka coughed up a pained, unintelligible sound when he pulled his hand away and she rolled onto her back.  
It was probably the worst, most painful thing he had even seen until now. Her right side was burned to a crisp, her skin was so dry, it fell down in flakes, just like her clothes.  
And her one remaining eye was staring at him.

Blair's magic had hit her full-force from the side, leaving her in this state. Now he understood what the witch's problem was – it wasn't her intent to kill, and yet, it looked like she succeeded.

Soul held his breath to keep himself from gagging after realizing that the strange smell was not burnt trash that resembled bacon, but his meister, who had been fried alive. He let the air he held go after a few seconds, all while looking straight into Maka's – who was still alive and desperately twitching with her unharmed side – face. He didn't know what to do. Shinigami and her father were watching, right? They must be, someone would come to help them – help her.  
An invisible hand was choking him while he reached for her small, limp hand. The fingers were twitching in agony, but she was not able to make any sounds. He could see some thick, almost slimy tears running from her left eye, telling him how much she was in pain right now, and the terror that came with it.

And she wasn't even able to say anything about it.

"I..someone is going to help you, Maka, right? Just..stay awake..?" He had no idea was he was saying. What do people say in this kind of situation?

He looked into her wide, agonized, green eye.  
Just this morning before they set off again, it was sparkling when she couldn't hold back laughing after he almost fell asleep in his breakfast. She flung a towel at him so he could rub the egg yolk off his face. Her smile was one of the best things he could ever think of, and no matter how much he tried to annoy her, it was the smile he liked best.

But now that radiant smile was gone, and her face was distorted into a mask of desperation he had never seen before.

Her eye never moved from his until the moment it lost focus, and her hand limply lay in his.

It was then when he blacked out completely.

* * *

The memories of what happened after Maka drew her last breath were fuzzy at most. He knew he hit something and that a wall or two crumbled for some reason. And that he was brought back to school first, he was violently torn away from the place she died.

He was certain she was dead, he felt it in his whole body back then.

The next time he woke up with a clear head was on his own bed. How did he get there?

Why was he there?

His legs felt heavy and tired when he got up. Had he always been there, or did someone change his clothes? The things he usually wore were neatly folded on his chair, and he was decked out in sleepwear. How long had he been asleep? He didn't know. His alarm told him it was around noon, wasn't he supposed to be in school?

Why didn't Maka wake him, was she sick?

Soul slowly opened his door. The apartment was silent, more than it was at night. The curtains were drawn, and the lighting dim and fuzzier than his memory. The tiles felt cold under his feet as he walked to the fridge; his throat felt like he hadn't been drinking for days.

Everything was tidy, there were no dishes in the sink or on the drying rack. It was almost ghostly tidy, as if they had just left for school and nobody was supposed to be home.

It looked stale.

The fridge creaked in the usually, annoying way when opened. The lights went on, but before Soul could reach the water bottles, his gaze fell upon a small plate with a half-eaten piece of cheesecake.

It's was Maka's.

She said she would eat it once they came back from hunting Blair. She even put a fork into the fridge because she was thinking about other things.

But it occurred to him it would never happen. She would never eat that cake.

And the kitchen was so tidy because it had never been used again after that day.

He didn't even bother to close the door, he just sat down on the kitchen floor and leaned against the counter.

Maka wasn't going to come back.

* * *

If there ever was a funeral, he didn't attend it. He knew Tsubaki and Black*Star had been knocking on the door a few times already, they had also been the ones who put him in bed. Normally, he would feel uncomfortable about the fact that someone like Black*Star apparently changed his clothes, but it didn't matter anymore.

The only thing in his mind was how he failed to do what he had to do, what he really wanted to do. And they were so close to actually reaching Maka's goal, he would have been a deathscythe, but then everything was just erased with a second of irrational behavior. Maybe he should have taken that hit instead.

But that wasn't everything. He stopped going to school. He spent most of his time staring at the ceiling and only eating when it was absolutely necessary. The whole apartment smelled nothing like the lively place it was before, it was stale, and he tried to keep it that way. Everything was still immaculate, there was no speck of dust anywhere. Maybe she was watching him. She could be angry if he made a mess, and he would never want to make her angry again.

He also covered all mirrors he could find. If there was one person he didn't want to see, it was Shinigami. He would suggest that Soul finds a new partner, and that was impossible. There would never be a new partner.

The only one he didn't cover was the one in Maka's room, he would not go in there.

But he considered it. Sometimes, he was sure he could hear her in there. She was laughing, like she was reading a particularly funny book. She always did that, trying to keep it down and covering her mouth while she giggled away. Her face was always pink afterwards.

It always stopped when he approached her door. He thought about knocking a few times, but he never could bring himself to do so.

* * *

He opened the door for his friends.

They didn't look well, but from the looks on their faces, he must have looked like shit.

And they didn't say anything about it, which was very uncharacteristic for Black*Star.

"How do you feel?" Tsubaki looked conflicted. She was probably contemplating If she should let herself in, or not. But Black*Star was way ahead of her.

"...I wish she would call sometimes." Was Soul's only response. He didn't really mind that Black*Star war sitting on the sofa, as long as he didn't knock stuff over. He felt too tired to clean up after him.

Luckily, it seemed like his friend was able to keep himself together without causing more damage than needed.

"Are you out of your mind?" Black*Star huffed in unknown, worn way. "She won't call, and she never will again."

He understood that Black*Star had known Maka for longer than he did, but had he witnessed her burning to a crisp?

"She should still be alive." Soul was a little surprised over the monotone sound his voice had in his own ears. He should be more upset than he was, right? "She probably feels lonely where she is, she likes it better when she's around other people."

"Do you even listen to me?" Black*Star was bouncing back to his feet. "You know what, forget it."

Soul watched him storm out of the front door, and Tsubaki bowed while whispering an apology before leaving. He was alone again.

* * *

He heard it again around midnight.

Maka was laughing in her room.

Soul couldn't sleep anyway. He had been through irregular sleep patterns since he ended up all alone in an apartment far too big for himself. There were sounds everywhere, and he was sure his mind was making them up.

But this one was real.

He could hear her voice, just on the other side of the hallway. In her room, the one place he had never visited.

He got up to his feet and decided actually get dressed properly and brush his hair.

He had no idea why. But if she really was there, he didn't want to look the way he felt.

It was strange. The feeling in this place was strange right now.

He realized it when he was standing in front of her door.

There, she was in there, he could feel it, every nerve in his body way sending signals of excitement and happiness to his brain.

She wouldn't be lonely anymore if he just went in there, right?

So Soul knocked on the door and waited for her to allow him entrance.

* * *

Tsubaki came back alone the day after. She used the spare key Maka had given her a long time ago and told herself it would be okay, since she worried over the way Soul behaved during their visit.

She found a completely silent apartment, all windows were shut, and the only open door led into Maka's old room.

There she found nothing but the goofy headband Soul preferred to wear.

No trace of him was left.

He never came back. Soul had disappeared.


End file.
